


Words carried on Eagles Wings

by Yueve



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everybody Lives, First Kiss, M/M, Movie 3: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, Protective Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yueve/pseuds/Yueve
Summary: Spoilers for "The Hobbit - The Battle of the Five Armies".What if Thorin had been given the opportunity to not beg Bilbo's forgiveness at death's door? What if they could have had their conversation in peace without death lurking over Thorin with the certainty of enough time? Together.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 9
Kudos: 69





	Words carried on Eagles Wings

**Author's Note:**

> A one night attempt for a fan fiction dedicated to a genre in which I am a complete stranger and inexperienced. Please forgive me for any inaccuracies. I'm just a humble and passionate fan of the movies. I would be very happy to receive comments and constructively written criticism.
> 
> English is not my first language.  
> Please forgive me for any remaining mistakes.

The fascination for the underground vaults of Erebor will probably last for all eternity. At least, he is able to find something warm in the light of the torches that gently cover the corridors in the color of sunset. He will have to get used to the echo his footsteps leave behind, as well as the muffled rebound against the stone walls that gives every sound a melodic resonance.

And yet it is so quiet, so eerily and peacefully calm in equal parts. The dripping of gold hollows out the moment that seemed so full and almost overwhelming to him before. But the weight on his chest remains the crushing feeling of still not being able to breathe freely, even though all is well. As good as it can be.

Now he is alone. Alone in the corridors, which seem so wide and at the same time narrow that he finds himself somewhere between discomfort and safety. Perhaps this perceptions will mature into familiarity at some point. Right now, it feels almost like he's on the verge of feeling at home so far from Bag End, inside the lonely mountain. 

Getting lost here, wandering from cave to cave without ever finding a place that doesn't lead him into another passage lit by a never-ending source of light, turns out to be an eternal accompaniment to Erebor. At least for him.

He doesn't know where he is or could be as he looks around and only the soft sound of his breath is reflected back from the walls. But from one of the caves that opens into a stone archway, the light pours in, spilling orange and velvet across the path of cold gray rock. 

Following the muffled echo and the trembling shadows, he catches sight of Thorin in the entrance to the wide tunnel. For a moment he stands there unmoved, like a monument to himself with a thoughtful expression, his eyes lowered and so far away that he seems unreachable. 

Yet it is only a few yards. 

"Bilbo." 

Thorin notices him only just before or after deciding to turn back and let him remain in his melancholy. Not out of suspicion or the intention to avoid his company, but to give him this silent moment as a gift. A moment of peace that each of them deserved. Thorin probably more than anyone else.

For a heartbeat, he hesitates nonetheless, but complies when he discovers nothing but goodwill in Thorin's expression and manner.

"I'm glad you're here," Thorin says in a deep, serious voice, sounding like he means it.

There will be an official coronation ceremony. A celebration of victory and relief, as well as prosperity, albeit accompanied by the mournful certainty of loss and the price that had to be paid to gain it all. It shall be a celebration of unity, the people of the city of Dale as invited guests and celebrated heroes of a glorious and equally cruel battle that will surely revive in nightmares over and over again. That part will never be lost. 

He sighs and nods, indulging his own dark thoughts for a vague second, but also happy and relieved that they are both standing here.

"It's still a few hours," he says, hearing for himself the soothing tone in his voice. 

For a moment there is silence between them, because they both know nothing more to say and the moment is enough for them even in the silence and rich in meaning.

It lasts long enough for him to look at Thorin, even if he has to lift his head a little to see him in his full form. He notices the braided pigtails in his lacquer-black hair, which in his memory on some days appeared as if from nowhere, on a journey full of deprivation and often not enough water to clean himself sufficiently.

Somehow, though, he still craves to break that silence. Careful as the delicate shell of a rare fruit to reach its precious inside, more precious than all the gold inside this fortress. 

But it is Thorin who speaks and does not avoid his gaze, even deliberately and genuinely seeks it and strengthens it.

"I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate," he begins, and his dark eyes grow darker, but not sinister. His hand wraps around Bilbo's arm as if to prevent him from simply turning away, and yet there is nothing oppressive about the touch, rather something familiar and strangely intimate. 

"You only did what a true friend would do. Forgive me, I was too blind to see it."

He cannot bear the sadness in his voice, the regrets and forgiveness he asks for in what he has said, which he believes in literally, but which he does not owe him and which he does not ask for. Therefore, he begins to shake his head, swallows his words, and then he begins again.

"No, no. You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault, you weren't yourself, not the way I've come to know and admire you."

As a friend, he still wants to say, but only manages to whisper it in his mind, because it suddenly seems to him not little, but also not enough. 

Thorin now holds him in place with both hands, keeping him with him and making it impossible for him to escape, even if Bilbo would even attempt to do so.

One moment bleeds into the next, warm and familiar as the fire from the torches flows into the darkness around them. 

"I am so sorry... that I have lead you to such peril, to have thought of your life as something expendable, or to have doubted your abilities or even your loyalty," he continues, sounding hoarse now, but no harsher, sounding vulnerable, honest, and warm. 

Yet this very honesty and vulnerability that resonates in it causes Bilbo to shake his head again and again, so energetically that Thorin puts his hands around his cheeks to stop him.

"No, no..." he repeats without feeling like it's enough and looks up into his eyes, holding onto Thorin's presence and anchoring himself in his gaze.

He is so impossibly close to him that he can feel the warmth radiating from him, the rabbit fur of his collar brushing his lips as he continues to speak.

„— I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them. It is far more than any Baggins deserves."

He smiles, seeing the response in Thorin's face. His fingers are playing with the engraved little silver jewelry at the end of one of the braided pigtails, and he doesn't know why he's doing it, whether it's foolish and should make him feel embarrassed.

In his presence, he suddenly feels so frail compared to Thorin and at the same time unconditionally protected by him. The certainty of being completely safe and sound, even here under the mountain, is a feeling he believes he has only him to thank for. The king under the mountain. 

Thorin strokes his thumbs over the flat ridges of his cheeks, where small cuts are still healing, so carefully and lovingly that he can barely feel it, yet the intimacy of the gesture causes him to be flushed.

"After this..." he says softly, smiling that warm and wintry smile that only he can achieve and which will remind Bilbo, for as long as he lives, of fire-colored sunbeams in the snow. 

"... you should go back to your books."

These words by no means do not sound like farewells. With each syllable more, Thorin pulls him close, holds him more firmly, without being rough and without needing to do so.

"Go back to your armchair and your garden and plant your trees. Watch them grow and flourish.“

He is so warm without getting burned. Avoidance is not an option. He doesn't take his eyes off Thorin, loses himself in their shared intimacy without avoiding even a fraction of an inch or becoming distracted. He can hear their breathing, generating heat between them, as if their hearts are now beating in perfect harmony.

"Or just stay here. With me."

The last is so soft he can barely hear, but he nods immediately, giving his consent with such haste as if he feared the loss of this request barely that it was made.

He can feel tears on his face and Thorin gently wiping them away before they can run down. He doesn't know what he's crying for, but he knows why, embedding himself in this moment full of love and promise he never imagined he would find on his journey. That an adventure would end up rewarding him in this way is something he would never have thought possible. 

And he is in tears at the knowledge of this, and he is so grateful that he fears he will perish from it. He knows what will follow and in some way he is afraid of it. He smiles and takes a deep breath, exhales it wordlessly, and just wants to close his eyes for a second to catch himself a little, when Thorin finally pulls him in, smothering any hesitation in him.

Their kiss is rough and firm, a promise and a seal, so tender and determined that nothing could have prevented it. Suddenly everything that has happened makes sense. Never has anything made so much sense as this moment. 

He loosens himself for a brief moment only to kiss Thorin again, just for the sake of not being the weaker one out of stoic intent, never mind that he has to stand on tiptoes to reach him and Thorin almost laughs in response. 

Although this serenity is unable to separate them, it causes Bilbo to once again disengage himself from him, only to linger in their embrace, feeling steady even though he fears his knees will slacken. Thorin holds him upright.

He will not depart from here without spending a long time here. A home to seek, if not for himself, but for those he had grown to love. More than he had feared Smaug's flaming wrath, he had feared being burned by his own homesickness. Now, he decides, he would endeavor to have a second home accepted as his own. Not alone. And this, though he had feared returning to Bag End bent with grief, with only a small box of gold, which would have been little reward or solace to him. As it lasts right now at this moment, it is perfect. 

FIN


End file.
